Lies Behind The Woods

the first time Steve was hit while defending his mother. Steve knew he had to be brave.
Spencer looked over at Steve on the floor beginning to tear up.
“I’m just having an adult conversation with your mother, Steve. Go back to your fucking room and go to bed.”
Steve slowly got up to his feet and made eye contact with his mother as she wiped her tears.
“It’s OK, Steve. It’s OK,” His mother said.
Steve knew it wasn’t. This wasn’t the first time Spencer had had too much to drink, but Steve wanted it to be the last.
He rushed Spencer as fast as he could and pushed him, sending him flying across the room. Spencer hit his head on the dining room table on his way down and lay motionless.
Steve’s heart jumped out of his chest. Pounding like a drummer gone wild.
“Is he. . . Is he dead?” Steve looked at his mother frantically.
“What did you do? What did you do?”
“I-I don’t know.” Steve replied, standing in shock.
Spencer let out a small groan as he started to regain consciousness.
Steve’s mother grabbed his coat.
“You need to go. Get out! I will take care of this. I will say he got drunk and fell, but you shouldn’t be here. Go!”
This broke Steve’s heart. His own mother once again taking the side of a no-good boyfriend.
“What about me?” Steve yelled. “What about me?” His mom stood there motionless.
“Until you can put food on the table, it will never be just about you.”
Steve shed a tear and ran out the door.
He ran until his legs were sore. He stopped and thought about what his mom had said. Then he ran again. He was thirteen.
Alone, abandoned, and afraid. Steve ran all the way to White Pine looking for his real father but never found him. Instead, Steve found hopelessness and the search for answers in an empty heart. Then Steve returned home and the same story played out there for the next five years.
Steve opened his eyes and wiped away his tears from the awful memories.
If I only knew about Tara, I could have saved her, he thought to himself. He felt Tara’s pain from his own abusive relationship.
If I only knew, Steve repeated slowly as he cried himself to sleep.

14


John Dexter
John Dexter’s childhood was a troubled one. He barely knew his father, who had been sent to life in prison for crimes of sex trafficking, murder, and money laundering. John’s dad was the leader of a cult inspired by Jim Jones. The same cult he inspired to lead someday and take over the sex world. He longed to be a king in this world.
John’s world was crushed when he found out the truth about his family. His mother that he loved so much turned out to be his sister. She named him John because she considered his father another trick in the sex game. A reminder of the deadbeat of a man that impregnated her. A married man that wanted a thrill with a woman that wasn’t his wife. She gave birth to a bastard and named him John for a memory of her dark path.
His stepfather physically abused him and sent him to school with black eyes multiple times, eventually leading him to foster care. In family after family, John was rejected or physically harmed—never finding the love he was looking for. The only love he found was from women he abused, and he never wanted to love them back.
Finding the love he wanted led him down a dark path. Falling into the rough crowd led him to his criminal record and multiple stints in county jail. It was there in county jail that John was helpless and gained his desire for power.
“Shower time, boys!” yelled a guard as John lay in his bunk staring at the ceiling. This was John’s usual routine since being locked up for his stupid mistakes. Thoughts of what could’ve been different kept playing in his mind.
The hardest thing about being locked up for John was shower time. Moments he took for granted on the outside and never wanted to do on the inside. This particular day was no different.
John slowly stood up from his top bunk. His roommate had already gone to the yard to do his daily hustle.
John exited his cell to begin a long walk through a hallway with his shampoo. The hallway was even hotter than his jail cell. John started to sweat. The noise coming out of the units was loud and obnoxious. Inmates yelling and slamming dominoes. Arguing over commissary and what to watch on the television. Minor chatter among the inmates. Yelling over who’s going to prison for their crimes. What to do for defense in court. Everyone turns into a lawyer in jail.
John continued to slowly walk through the shower walls as other inmates gave him dirty stares. The cold water echoing through the stalls started to send chills through John’s body; he was wearing only boxers and shower shoes. John let the last two inmates cut in front of him, still feeling uncomfortable showering with a bunch of men in jail.
As John got closer and closer to the stalls, he heard and saw Officer Tanya Brown, an overweight female guard, giving stern orders to the men.
“One towel, one soap, one towel, one soap!” shouted Officer Brown.
Closer and closer, John eased his way to the shower room.
John was finally face to face with the female guard as she shoved a tan eleven-inch-wide bath towel and a thin piece of green soap into John’s hands. He was then shoved into the humidity of the showers.
The smell of sweat and feces was too much for John to bear as he gagged on his own saliva, trying to hold his breath. John walked swiftly to find an open stall at the end of the shower away from the crowd. Most of the inmates had already handled their business. Exactly what John was hoping for at this time of the shower